


dream light, sleep tight

by twistmyleg



Category: Octopath Traveler (Video Game)
Genre: Dreams and Nightmares, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Post-Canon, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-06
Updated: 2019-09-06
Packaged: 2020-10-10 19:28:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20533340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twistmyleg/pseuds/twistmyleg
Summary: how do you cope with the first good thing amidst a sea of bad?





	dream light, sleep tight

**Author's Note:**

> huh haven't been here in a while guess we're doing this

_ He was falling. _

_ Down, down he went, concepts of beginning and end blurred amongst the swirling red...no, green? Now with blue? Not the tainted navy he knew, but almost aquamarine? Seafoam white? No, there was the red again, imposing as an impenetrable wall awaiting his arrival. It would collect him in its iron grip and whisk him to...the red was fading? Now speckled amongst uneven green tufts. Ah, here came the familiar scents and pains, scratches forming on his arms to create a new hue of red...but they only tickled? _

_ No, this was not right. The red should be in streaks, eventually submerging his view. He should be repulsed by the smell, prepared to vomit. Where was the smell of iron and sweet, sweet death he knew would come with the experience? Where was that of murky waters and birdian feathers from above? His own scent, apples faintly present against all else? ...Oh, there it was. But too abundant, as if Primrose spritzed herself with intoxicating perfume before battle, masking the scent of death her dagger acquired. _

_ Had he been eating an apple just before it ended? _

_ Did not matter, for here boomed laughter from above, finalizing everything he could never decide on. It shook him thoroughly, changing the direction he fell and would land on...but he already landed? Yes, as the ground scratched against him. But the laugh should make it tremble beneath him, no? Instead it absorbed it, spreading colors in every direction. And although it boomed, it was not...well, threatening for an entity looking down upon his kingdom. Innocent, actually, or enough given his circumstances. Nowhere near as deep or with that spark a cackle came with. It was natural and light...perhaps free. _

_ Presently the world was spinning in a maelstrom of color. Blue above, green and red and yellow; any color imaginable surrounding him in every sense, even tasting something earthy over bitterness. The laughter quieted to solemn breathing, taking in fresh warm air around him and exhaling little chuckles. His fingers grazed something delicate, which he immediately picked up and brought to his face. A flower? They rarely grew amidst heat, but here it had stood. He felt bad, seeing its petals immediately wilt without a source, ready to fall away. Foolish as it was, maybe he could revive it. He found himself sitting up, spotting its previous settlement to his right. Deft fingers cleared the dirt before sliding the flower in place. Instantly it sprang back with life, petals reaching to the sun and hue brightening. But with no water? _

_ In front of him sat a riverbank, water rushing past him like ripples after a splash. Droplets overshore clung to nearby blades of grass, trailing down to the earth below. An outside source providing life anew...it was almost too perfect of a place. No monsters waiting to attack, nor other people sullying its beauty. And again laughter echoed above in the same fashion, lighter now. His hand instinctially reached for the sky, fingers stretching as far as they could, if only to grasp one sundrop for its warmth. It all seemed like… _

The night took over instantly, moonlight avoiding his hand and Therion straight up in bed, heart and breathing erratic. Out of the countless nightmares in his lifetime, this was the strangest.

Therion waited, hand going limp to tightly pinch the little creases he created in the sheets. His eyes darted across his surroundings, seeking an object to focus on. But it was never easy in a minimalist’s room: two eroding chairs and a table in one corner, a small kitchenette with a large cabinet in the back, and a chest with extra blankets and pillows before the bedframe. If he was lucky, he could spot the coat rack behind the door, the only highlight of modern Orsterran furniture. The longer he pondered, the more apparent it became that whatever he waited for missed its cue. Perhaps it had stage fright?

No,  _ no,  _ panic never did. It was always early for its cue. So where was it? If it did not show, Therion knew he would get no panic from having no panic. 

And what would Alfyn say to that? Instantly he turned to face said apothecary deep in slumber next to him, snores soft against the quiet. Even now he wore his sentiments on his sleeves, muth curled in a small smile. In moonlight there was something different about Alfyn; if sunshine was his second nature, then moonlight seemed his opposite. But for the half of him it illuminated, it did not fail to capture every part Therion could lose himself in for infinite time. Certainly, to an extent, it would reduce the tardy panic in his chest, air not as warm as summer suggested. 

Without thinking, his hand grasped Alfyn’s at his side carefully, squeezing a total of three times in slow succession. They were trained over many months to be intense, moderate, then soft. Slowly they would around him - and ease Therion’s initial wave - to open his eyes, brown meeting aquamarine, earth and sky forbidden to meet until the sun connected them. “Mornin’ to ya. Sleep alright so far?”

“Yeah…” Alfyn propped himself on his elbows, knowing crease in his brows.

“You don’t have to apologize for wakin’ me.” His other hand now pinched at the creases.

“I’m still working on it. Old habits die hard, I suppose.”  _ No kidding.  _ Alfyn nodded silently in acknowledgement, silence prevailing for a few moments. Once upon a time it would increase his panic to be as they are now, but now it brought comfort. 

“So...what was the new variation? Don’t take offense by this, but...it doesn’t seem so bad tonight based on your expression? There’s less panic.” Therion shook his head.

“I don’t, but...I honestly don’t...know? It wasn’t...no one died. No blood, corpses, gruesome injuries; nothing. There was no fighting to start with.” Thought Alfyn tried to mask his immediate optimism behind a raised brow, his inflection failed him.

“Really? Was there anyone else? ...Was it about Darius at all?”

“Booming laughter, yeah. But it wasn’t Darius. Too carefree for him.” Only falling indicated his presence, and that alone knocked the wind out of Therion. If not about him, then what? There were so many possibilities from both before and after… “It was not even in the Cliftlands. Nor a manor under heist, or Northreach or Wellspring,” though Wellspring barely haunted him, considering all innocent parties involved were free to live their lives. Perhaps he would pen a letter to a certain thief soon, offer a visit, “or anywhere associated with him.”

“Then what occurred?” Therion flopped back into the pillows, hand brushing over his temples and eyes transfixed on the ceiling. Even the numerous cracks and holes lining the wood had been counted numerous times.

“I was...at least, I think it was me...rolling down a hill of flowers. There were so many of them in all different colors, vibrant even if they were trampled. I picked up one that wilted immediately. But when I returned it...without watering it, it came back to life. A nearby riverbank made it flourish again.” He chuckled dryly. “It was the picture perfect definition of a utopia. Nothing wrong could happen there.”

“Idyllic for sure. And no other conflict?” Therion shook his head, hair falling over his ears and inadvertently unveiling a peculiar mark. In his peripheral vision Alfyn blinked slowly twice: once for him and once for himself.

“I thought with the addition of laughter there would be. Shook me to the core with chills. But it was nothing like Darius’. It reminded me of a child’s, but may as well have been the sun above. But honestly...it sounded like you.”

“...I didn’t throw ya down that hill, did I?”

“Gods no, Alfyn. The best you would do is tickle someone until their laughter carried them down the hill. Not even your warmaster abilities would allow you to abandon your values.” Even in his nightmares. A slow, familiar chill weaved its way through his blood. “But you weren’t there. Just your laugh. I don’t know. It all probably sounds like nonsense.”

“It doesn’t, Therion.” Though said with a familiar smile and warmth, Therion did not ignore the tone. Alfyn squeezed his hand gently, eyes piercing. “Really, it sounds like a wonderful dream.” Before he knew it a scoff escaped him, paired with a dry laugh.

“Yeah, right. Dreams are not like that.” It was Alfyn’s turn to raise a brow in concern, releasing his hand and adjusting his position. More creases appeared in the sheets, and his urge got the better of him as he pinched them away.

“What makes ya say that?”

“They just aren’t. Dreams have nothing to them.” Alfyn bit his lip to stifle a chuckle. Therion’s head turned to meet with sparkling eyes enhanced from the moonlight. Around it the stars twinkled, occasionally winking as if they knew some grand secret he did not. “And what makes that funny, hm?”

“I don’t want ya to take offense, but do you know what a dream is?”

“Of course,” Therion spat.  _ I did receive some education, like it or not,  _ Therion was prepared to say, but one glance made him bite his tongue. Alfyn knew; hell, all of their friends knew what the Riverlands faced during the Great Pestilence. He screamed it before and the waves crashed against the rocks in Goldshore as Alfyn spilled his regrets. No point to stir them now. “Sorry. You said not to take offense.”

“You’re alright, Therion. Can you explain to me what you think it means?”

Therion huffed upward, hairs sticking out before falling in front of his eye. “They are a blank space. And the only presence there is you. No location, conflict, or others. Just you...and your thoughts...until you wake.” Few and far between over the years, he could not remember the last time he sat there in contemplation. The first time was at rock bottom, staring death in its face as it blankly gave judgement of his fate years before he met Darius. Only there he held neutral ground, with only one direction to climb. “No door or window to let you escape. The floor will cave beneath you when it is time.”

“Nothing in there encourages the kinds of thoughts you have?”

“None. Whatever comes to you in that moment replays endlessly. For better or worse.” Much as the room suggested it, his mind never let him have silence and instead roared with regrets. Therion tilted his head slightly, frown evident in the crease of his brow. Although his eyes had more shine to them now, it never went further than that. “That’s not what you experience when you dream?”

“Can’t say I do.”

“Than what is it to you?” Alfyn puckered his lips momentarily and adjusted his hands to catch his chin.

“Cyrus says it’s a series of thoughts, ideas, and sensations a pesron’s mind experiences durin’ sleep. These can include nightmares. However, I don’t like the defintion. Not to say dreams should be separated as good or bad, but there’s a difference for sure.” In between his fingers his smile beamed, moonlight enveloping his figure almost completely along with the few creases remaining. “A dream is something you  _ want  _ to experience, good or bad. Sometimes you need to experience the opposite to learn, or just for a good night’s rest. No one wants to experience a nightmare, no matter its intensity.”

“And the instance in the fields I just…”   


“I’d imagine you wanted to experience that, no? May not contain the excitin’ adventures you’re used to, but a peaceful scenery never hurt nobody?” How could he refute that? Everyone in their group wanted peace after the journey’s end and moments of truth, each seeking it in their own way. Yet every reunion made Therion the odd one out. Success at the shop, freelance researcher, traveling cleric; they took their lessons and moved forward. But he?

“Then I guess I wanted to experience the blank spaces too?” Alfyn sighted, moving one hand back to the sheets, fingers fiddling against the cloth. Creases reappeared in small waves.

“But to sit and stew in regrets? It’s no better than a nightmare if it’s not what you want. ...Er, Therion?”

He did his best to exhale in a relatively calm manner through slowly grinding teeth, yet still the hairs behind his neck stood up, trying to escape. “It’s not like I ever had a choice.”

Only Alfyn’s exhale filled the vacuum of silence afterward, knowing and frustrated and wanting the best for him but unsure of how to get there. In this thinking the creases began to swirl in an unrecognizable pattern. But it was halted quickly by a sharp inhale, fingers dead in their tracks. “You always have a choice, Therion, to want something. With all you’ve seen, you likely wanted pace and neutrality to hold some stability in your life. Much as you’ve always blended with chaos...Therion, did you always want to stay in those conditions?”

“Of course not,” Therion retorted. Why the obvious question? “If I had…”

“The resources, you would have. But you did not, save the one thing ya knew you could call your own.” Alfyn’s hand lifted slightly, tapping Therion’s temple with three soft pokes. “And so ya chose to find solace there. Maybe not ideal, but it was enough at the time. But Therion, you’ve experienced so much more beyond those hardships. It’s okay to want more. It’s okay to dream of happy and love things.” Therion could not restrain the snort following his words.

“Happy and love things?” Alfyn’s lips puckered again.

“Sure! Used to pledge it to Ma all the time when I was younger. Part of a nighttime routine wishing for a better day tomorrow. Helped with lots of things: fear of weather, monsters, of...well, you know. No matter what came, I always wished - for both of us - to have pleasant dreams. Even though I don’t say it alound no more...I still wish it. For both of us, Therion.”

The moon reached its highest peak now, sparing no light to embrace Alfyn, glowing smile and hair drifting against the stagnant air. Almost as if it knew his countless hidden troubles and guarded him. Maybe it knew what trouble he would find himself in alone and reminded him of the resources beside him. The moon had always been a cruel mistress to Therion, showing the path yet never the destination. But what now, after it all passed through? His hands made deft work to readjust the sheets over them, crinkles dissipating. “...Did it work?”

“Sure did. Nightmares may plague us once in a while, but we need not think we deserve them because of their prevalence. We’re more than that…” Alfyn took in a slow, deep breath, clearing any indication of a frown from his face on the exhale. “We’re always more than that. They do not reflect who we are.”

“But how can I be sure this was not just a one-hit wonder interrupting the normal flow?” Alfyn’s smile grew determined now, brilliant and blinding.

“I’ll make sure of it.”

“How, exactly? You don’t have power over my dreams.” Alfyn’s smile grew wider.

“Maybe so. But I can fill ya with so many positive memories and so much love them nightmares will scatter the moment they try to approach. I’ll break the flow, Therion. You are so worth so much more than them nasties, and I’ll do all it takes to give you another field of flowers.” Therion sunk deeper into the sheets, hoping crimson did not bleed through. Alfyn’s smile dimmed slightly, hand gently touching his shoulder in comfort. “I didn’t say it to make ya uncomfortable--”

“I know. Just---” He lowered the sheets slightly, revealing the formation of a small smile, “...thank you, Alfyn.” He felt a slight squeeze on his shoulder, a small portion of the moonlight reaching where his hand was. It failed to grant the same complete warmth the sun finally did, but even just a bit of it was more than enough. For the first time in a long while, he looked forward to falling back asleep.

“Always, Therion. Always.”


End file.
